


Ten Years Is a Long Time

by Tenzoh



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 10-year time skip, M/M, Rated T for language, You Have Been Warned, my idea of a fix-it fic, no beta we die like men, of course promptis is endgame, promcin is minor, promptis centric, promptis without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 16:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13438890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenzoh/pseuds/Tenzoh
Summary: Noctis doesn’t expect Prompto to do what Gladio and Ignis did—truly, he doesn’t.  ‘Cause he expects Prompto to come running to him and lock him in an embrace as tight as possible, crying and at the same time overflowing with joy and excitement.  And Noctis would not miss a second to return the embrace.But Prompto doesn’t.Instead he walks up to Noctis, pats the side of his shoulder and says in a lower voice, “It really is you.”“Yeah,” Noctis says, but it feels more like a sound he forced from his throat.That’s when Noctis confirms that ten years isn’t the only thing he had lost.





	Ten Years Is a Long Time

Noctis doesn’t know when it began.

He certainly does remember when Prompto first approached him, when the blonde was looking a lot more different from what he was like back in middle school.  He remembers going to the arcades and to the Crow’s nest with a companion for the first time.  He remembers the first time he’s invited Prompto to come over his apartment—the first time he’s ever let somebody in other than Ignis, Gladio and his own dad.

But he does not remember when Prompto become _this_ precious to him.

Prompto’s birthday is coming up, and Noctis has just spent the past few days racking his brains out on what gift to give him.  Last year, on his eighteenth, he had given him the camera Prompto’s always dreaming of, and Noctis was more than happy to see how delighted his best friend was.  Now that he finally had what could be the best thing he ever wished for, Noctis doesn’t know what else to give him this year.

Well, maybe Prompto still wants other things, but another problem is that Noctis is too chicken to ask him personally about it.  So now, here he is, looking for answers.  Ignis, too, is beginning to get annoyed by the constant nagging of the Prince for an advice.

“I may have already told you this,” Ignis says over the phone, rubbing the creases on his forehead and between his eyebrows.  “The best present is something which comes from your heart.  The monetary value and grandeur of your present matters the least.”

Funny, though, ‘cause earlier Gladio told him that it would not hurt to give his friend an expensive gift since he himself is the Crown Prince.  Even Luna had a different take on the matter.

“In my opinion,” the beginning of Luna’s letter says.  “Prompto, being the nice person he is, will appreciate anything you will be giving him wholeheartedly.”

So back to square one.  He still doesn’t know what to give Prompto. 

Games?  Should he give Prompto games?  But it appears that the guy does not play too much in his own house since he finds it most enjoyable to play in Noctis’ condo (not to mention that Noctis’ console and games library are very much updated).  So, if he buys Prompto new games, it would seem like he’s buying them for also himself.  And besides, whenever a new game comes out, Noctis immediately buys it for them anyway.

_Fuck._

A car, perhaps?  Well, Prompto would definitely love to have his first car (seeing his jealousy when Noctis had his own), but accepting it from Noctis is a different matter.  As early as now, he hears in his mind Prompto ranting about Noctis spending unnecessarily for him, and that he would never accept such an extravagant gift from him.

Shall he throw him a party, then?  Nah, Prompto doesn’t like crowds, the noise, and all the havoc.  In all these years, Noctis knows that despite Prompto’s outgoing personality, that guy still has issues when it comes to people and socializing.  It may not be necessarily a good thing, but it is definitely one of the things they have in common and Noctis is more than glad to have known of such fact about Prompto.

Chocolates?  Damn, he curses himself for even thinking about it.  He could ask the bakers in the Citadel to help him prepare them or any sweets, but _fuck._ Chocolates?  It isn’t even Valentine’s day, and hell, they never—they _aren’t_ supposed to—give each other chocolates in such a day.

Well, it’s another matter, actually.  He and Prompto… well, they’re best friends.  That’s something which had come naturally to them as soon as Prompto talked to Noctis in high school.  Prompto may be the first best friend he’s ever had outside his court life, but Noctis knows very well that, now, it is more than that.  For him, at least.  Though in fact, he wants to believe that Prompto _also_ feels the same way towards him.  Whether it’s the casual, friendly skinship that serves as potential evidence, he wants to believe it.

It seems like Prompto’s present is no longer the sole headache he has to think about.

 

\----------

 

Noctis doesn’t know how he’s able to come up with the present he’s about to give Prompto.

Maybe it’s the result of him considering _all_ the advices he’s got from his three friends.  Or maybe because he thinks it will make Prompto happy.  Whatever, he cares about that the least, ‘cause right now it’s the night of Prompto’s birthday—and thank the gods it is Saturday night—and Noctis has invited him over to celebrate with Ignis and Gladio.

They enjoyed a dinner with a set of dishes prepared by the chefs in the Citadel, delivered by the Advisor and the Shield.  For Prompto, it already seemed grand enough for an occasion such as his birthday, until Ignis reveals the centerpiece birthday cake he himself specially prepared for the youngest of the group.  The dinner may have seemed too much for a group of four people, but the appetite of four young adult males should not be underestimated.

After their meal, they sat in a circle in the living area, Gladio and Ignis drinking a whisky the Shield has brought, while the two high-schoolers needed to settle for the non-alcoholic mocktail, courtesy of Ignis (the Advisor had figured out that the two teens will be envious of the two older men, apparently).  They mostly talked about dumb random things and play mini mind games, and overall, it is a nice celebration, in Noctis’ opinion.

Well, everything might have been perfect until Gladio hands over his present to the birthday boy.  That _damn_ Shield has actually given Prompto a couple of porn videos as a present, saying “Be thankful that I have saved you all the trouble in buying them in the store yourself.”  Noctis does not miss the flustered expression of his best friend upon opening the fancy paper bag.  Prompto tries hiding his embarrassment in an awkward laughter and a quick _thanks-you-shouldn’t-have-bothered_.

To make matters worse—fuck, really _worse—_ Gladio has the nerve telling Prompto, “If you’re not comfortable being alone, why not watch them together with Prince Charmless?”

Prompto lets out another awkward laugh, and Noctis wishes that he could do the same, but he settles for shooting daggers at Gladio instead.  Regrettably, though, he has to witness the amused look at the Shield’s face as a response.

Not wanting to make things any more awkward, Noctis turns to Prompto to tell him not to worry, that it is definitely the alcohol talking.  But before he could say any of that, their gazes meet and Prompto immediately averts his eyes, cheeks turning red (which is most likely not caused by the mocktail).  Noctis, that _very good_ Prince, actually misses the right timing to tell Prompto something, and he ends up making the atmosphere between them even more awkward.

He wishes for a random hole to open up on the floor under his feet and swallow him whole.

_Dammit._

 

\----------

 

The night was still young, but Ignis took the initiative of excusing himself and Gladio from the celebration.  Ignis knows of the little surprise Noctis has up his sleeve for Prompto, and he certainly would not want to keep the surprise waiting.  The kitchen and living area are still a mess, though, and Ignis doubts that the two will do anything about it until tomorrow. 

As soon as the door shuts, Noctis treads to the living area.  Without further ado, he removes the empty bottles and glasses from the coffee table to the nearest kitchen counter, before he drags the coffee table away from the center of the living area, to the wall.

“Dude!?  Rearranging your furniture during my birthday?” Prompto asks, cringing at the scratching sound of the legs of the table against the polished wooden floor.

“No more questions,” Noctis tells Prompto when he finds a good spot for the coffee table and moves on to the lounge chair.  “Just help me with this.”

Prompto follows Noctis’ lead, and when they managed to clear the center of the living area, Noctis proceeds to move the couch.  Still puzzled as to what they’re doing, though, Prompto lifts the other side of the couch while Noctis does the same in the other.  They turned the couch so it’s facing the large window in the living area which stretches from the floor up to the ceiling, and setting it down right in front of it.  Noctis draws back the layers of curtains, revealing the nighttime view of the city, Noctis’ apartment being at a good vantage point.

When Noctis settles down on the right side of the couch after switching the lights to dim, Prompto sits down next to him.

“So, uh, what’s this about again?” Prompto asks once more, ‘cause his curiosity is close to killing him right now. 

“Shush, you’ll find out in a minute.”

Noctis dials a number on his phone, and when the other end of the line picks up, he simply says “Go for it.”

“Now, count down from ten,” he tells Prompto upon putting his phone down, which the blonde happily complies with, despite his absolute cluelessness.

When Prompto reaches 1, he asks, “So what now?”

But before Prompto could protest any further, their attention is caught by the sudden illumination coming from outside the window which were accompanied by loud _bangs_ and _swoosh._ It’s not the scary kind of explosion, though.The night sky that is once dark and empty is now tinged with explosion of various lights and colors, some are in patterns and synch.

“Noct?”  Prompto asks Noctis while captivated by the array of fireworks unfolding right before his very eyes.  Despite his confusion, he does not bother to hide his delight in watching the spectacle.

“It’s my birthday present to you,” Noctis says, unconsciously putting up a smug face, ‘cause those sparkles in Prompto’s eyes are definitely worth all the trouble.

“No way, dude!?  Is _this_ really for me?” Prompto asks once more, pointing at the window.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

A couple of _booms_ and _bangs_ later, they see a yellow firework that morphs into the silhouette of a cartooned chocobo, and of course, Prompto knows that it’s Noctis’ attribution of his awe for such cute creature.  Prompto looks the fireworks with even more amazement, in complete astonishment as to how the pyrotechnics are able to create such tricks.  More than that, he is just amazed how Noctis is able to actually pull of a fireworks display as his birthday present.  Well, he definitely _is_ the Crown Prince, for one.

“Happy birthday, Prompto,” Noctis says, the smug on his face is now replaced by the look of fondness toward the other boy, pretending that he’s looking outside the window and he prays that Prompto will not notice in the dimness of the light.  

“Gods, Noct,” Prompto says, still not taking his eyes off of the fireworks display.  “I—I don’t know what to say ‘cause this is just _unbelievable_.”

“For starters, aren’t you gonna take a couple of shots?”

In a split second, almost, Prompto grabs his camera from the kitchen counter and goes back to his seat, not wanting to miss anything.  Only after a few shutter clicks, though, he sets down the camera at the corner of the couch next to the armrest.

Neither of them taking their eyes off of the view, Prompto scoots closer to Noctis, their hips pressing side by side together.  The Prince, meanwhile, splays his left arm on the back of the couch to allow the blonde to rest his head on Noctis’ left shoulder, and does not hesitate to rest his cheek on the blonde locks.  That skinship he’s talking about?  _This_ , obviously, is one of them, and it actually did not take time getting used to.

“It’s really beautiful,” Prompto says.  “Thanks, Noct.  I mean, thank you for tonight’s celebration, for everything.  Not quite sure if I deserve any of these wonderful things, though.”

“Think I would do any of that for someone who doesn’t deserve that?” Noctis replies.  And of course, the answer to that is _no_.

Prompto chuckles in response, a sound that has always been music to Noctis’ ears.

“You’ve given me the camera that I’ve always wanted in my last birthday, and now _this._ You keep on pampering me, dude.”

A few moments of silence befall upon them, making way for the sounds of explosion outside, but it is nothing like an awkward silence, more like a comfortable silence of them staring onto the distance while enjoying each other’s warmth and soothing presence.

“This is not me sounding ungrateful but,” Prompto says later on, “I just want you to know that even without all of these, I’m more than happy to be by your side.  Thank you, Noct.”

Noctis doesn’t know if it’s the mood, the mocktail, or simply the feeling that’s slowly welling up inside him for as long as he can remember.  He doesn’t know; he doesn’t care.  Without thinking too much, he tips his head to the side, pressing the tip of their noses together.  Prompto does not move nor flinch though, his eyes looking downward, Noctis looking at how long his eyelashes are.  Within the non-existent distance between them, Noctis could bet that Prompto hears his heart beating rapidly in pure anticipation.  Noctis inches his face closer, and closer, until his lips finally capture Prompto’s.  Their teeth bump, breaths hitch, the angle is awkward and it is not perfect by any standards, as expected of their first kiss—or maybe, it is as _perfect_ as it could be _,_ after all.  Noctis doesn’t know if it’s the drink they had earlier, or Prompto’s lips just taste this _sweet_. 

At that moment, ridiculous at it sounds, Noctis couldn’t help but think of how everything feels right, how everything falls right into place.

Noctis doesn’t know if the kiss is shorter or longer than necessary, but they part when they could not hold their breaths any longer.  Nevertheless their faces remain close, foreheads bumping, deep breaths mingling.  Midnight blue orbs, which are only illuminated by the fireworks and dim lights, stare right at Noctis’—it is as if Prompto is asking something, or he may be saying something that he does not dare to put into words, so he could only look at Noctis that way.  In that moment, the flames inside Noctis become too strong, too much.  The flames that once provided him a feeling that sends him floating in the air now becomes overwhelming.

And suddenly, he is frightened. 

Regretfully, he sits back on the couch, nevertheless still holding Prompto on his rightful place beside him, resting his head on the blonde ones that lie on his shoulder.  Noctis shuts his eyes tightly despite the continuous sound of explosion outside telling him that the beautiful display is far from being over.

Prompto does not ask, does not say anything.  Noctis is, however, ironically thankful and disappointed at the same time.

“Just forget about it tomorrow,” Noctis says, his voice low and lacking conviction, ‘cause _fuck—_ that’s not definitely what he wants to say, that’s not what he wants to happen at all.

A few moments passed by when neither of them speaks, only the sound of fireworks can be heard.

“No, I won’t,” he hears Prompto say eventually, the blonde shifting so he could fit in Noctis’ arms better, more perfectly, ‘cause that might be the place where he really belongs.  “I won’t forget.”

They spend the next minute in long stretch of silence, maintaining the way they cuddle with each other.  And they stay like that, even if the show has already ended a long moment ago, and the room turns all quiet and dark with its dimmed lights.

No words are said, no promises are made—it’s just the two of them, together, in this one fleeting moment.  Maybe tomorrow when they wake up, both of them will forget about this, or maybe they won’t but still pretend that they do.  However, the morrow feels too distant, too unfamiliar, too dreaded.  Until then, Noctis could not do anything but endure the throbbing pain on his chest that may not be going away anytime soon, despite his oasis sleeping soundly in his arms.

It hurts, ‘cause he can give Prompto the grandest present no one could ever give him, but he can’t give Prompto the thing he wanted to give him the most.

It hurts, ‘cause, _fuck,_ he can practically have almost everything but this person in his arms.

 

\----------

 

“What do you think they’re doing, Noct?” Prompto asks when they reach the top of the staircase to reach the park where a statue called the _Tidemother_ stood _,_ a tribute to the Leviathan.  People are throwing what seem like paper airplanes toward the open mouth of the statue facing the sky.

“They’re launching wishing birds,” a store attendant nearby says, obviously overhearing their conversation.  “Would you boys like to give it a try?”

The youngest two approaches the store while Ignis and Gladio watches them from afar, seeming uninterested with what the two is about to do.  Well, it seems dumb and childish, to be honest.

“You write your wish on a paper bird and you throw it at the statue,” the store attendant further explains, handing over paper birds to each of them.  “If it lands in the mouth, your wish will come true.”

“Come on, Noct, let’s do this!” Prompto says enthusiastically, reaching for a pen, and then pauses for a couple of second as he thinks of what to write.

Noctis does the same—gets himself a pen and thinks of what to write.  A wish, huh?

Looking back, many things had happened in the past few months.  Many things had happened that forced them to grow up without the refuge of their homeland and their families.  Somehow, making a wish seems very laughable at this point.

Many things had happened that forced them—or at least Noctis—to set aside his personal emotions which now seem trivial in the face of greater adversaries.  Ever since _that_ night, already more than a year ago, neither he nor Prompto mentioned anything close to that.  Intimate touches bordering between friendship and romance have also long been foregone.

Looking back, Noctis has many things to wish for, that it would cost him lots of paper birds.  But he won’t though, ‘cause as the King of Lucis it is his duty to make most of his own wishes come true.  Yet there is one wish he, admittedly, may not fulfill on his own.

_I wish for Prompto’s happiness_.

“Hey Prompto, you ready?” Noctis asks Prompto when he’s done writing.

“You bet I am!” Prompto replies.  

 

\----------

 

“And Prompto?  How is he?”  Noctis finally asks Talcott whose eyes do not leave the dark road, his tone still casual and conversational.  Truth be told, he is more than excited to know everything Prompto’s up to these past ten years even if Talcott is only a second hand source of information.  It will take them a while to reach Hammerhead, and it should do for now.  But on the contrary, at the same time he doesn’t want to hear any of it, probably that’s why he asked about Prompto last.  Maybe because at the back of his mind, he is afraid to know what kind of struggles Prompto must have been through the past decade of darkness—a whole decade when Noctis had not been by his side.

“Prompto spends most of his time doing hunts alone,” Talcott answers, eyes still on the road.  Noctis’ chest felt heavy by hearing the word _alone._

“And I think it will take him some more time to woo Miss Cindy into marriage,” the now-teenage boy adds.  “She’s already married to her work.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Noctis swears his heart dropped to his stomach.  Noctis does not even bother to respond, or to even fake a smile. 

If it’s true, it shouldn’t be a surprise, though.  Ever since the first time they had been to Hammerhead, Prompto does not fail expressing his fondness over the grease-monkey goddess.  Back then, Noctis does not say anything—he has no _right_ to say anything, to be exact, considering the fact that he had already ended whatever’s between him and Prompto before it even started.   

His thoughts are running wild at this point.  Prompto and Cindy are _going out?_  For how long?  But before he considers such possibility, he tells himself that Talcott may be mistaken, that he might just have misinterpreted whatever’s going on between the two.  Maybe Prompto is just messing around like he used to do back then, trying to show the world his admiration to Cindy.  Maybe they really aren’t like that.  That’s what he tells himself.

The truck takes a right turn at a junction, and Noctis immediately recognizes that they are already at the Longwythe Rest Area, although it is devoid of human presence that he remembers and only lurking daemons are in sight.  They are only a few minutes away from Hammerhead, only a few minutes for Noctis to see the friends he had not seen for ten freaking years due to his long slumber inside the crystal.  Whatever questions he has left, he’ll find the answers by himself.  That’s what he decides.

 

\----------

 

As Talcott drives inside the Garage premises in front of Takka’s, Noctis notices three familiar figures emerging from the restaurant.  His stomach flips, not because he hadn’t seen his friends for so long—damn, he was convinced that he was only out for a couple of hours, not a freaking _decade_ —but because it has been ten years for his friends and, of course, they have changed.  Which is kind of scary, now that he thinks about it.

He doesn’t wait for Talcott to switch of the engine, and as soon as the truck comes into a halt he opens the door and hops off the truck.  He turns to the three people approaching him, and as expected he is now seeing three older men—though he is one to talk with that scruff of beard he’s wearing. 

“Hey,” Noctis tells the three as he walks towards them.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself, after all this time?” Gladio retorts, pulling Noctis into a bone-crushing hug with heavy pats at the back that lasted for a couple of seconds.

“Well, you’ve kept us waiting,” Ignis says, and Noctis takes the initiative to come up to his friend to give him a quick hug and pat his back, as he’s already heard from Talcott that the Advisor had never regained his eyesight.  Though he’s quite sure that Ignis had already gotten used to it and is still capable than ever. 

Finally, Noctis looks at the person who is yet to greet him, and his gaze meets that pair of familiar midnight blue eyes.  Prompto is smiling, but it is not the smile that Noctis used to know.

Noctis doesn’t expect Prompto to do what Gladio and Ignis did—truly, he doesn’t.  ‘Cause he expects Prompto to come running to him and lock him in an embrace as tight as possible, crying and at the same time overflowing with joy and excitement.  And Noctis would not miss a second to return the embrace.

But Prompto doesn’t. 

Instead he walks up to Noctis, pats the side of his shoulder and says in a lower voice, “It really is you.”

“Yeah,” Noctis says, but it feels more like a sound he forced from his throat.

That’s when Noctis confirms that ten years isn’t the only thing he had lost.

 

\----------

 

The King of Light is about to put an end to a seemingly-endless darkness, and the gang decides to celebrate early for his return by drinking.  While everyone’s preparing things inside what used to be the Takka’s Pit Stop (now a home for their supplies and arsenal), taking out their precious booze stashed away for many years, Ignis and Noctis sit down outside and talk about things. 

Ignis gives him an overview of what happened in Lucis in the past decades of darkness.  Noctis learns how human settlements, one by one, have been encroached by daemons, and how the people of Lucis struggled to survive without the presence of the sun.  It’s not a good story to welcome him with, Ignis knows that, but it is the reality that King needs to be aware of.

After the important stuff, Noctis manages to ask Ignis about what everyone was up to, though he has already heard some from Talcott.  Ignis tells a little bit about his own plight without his vision and tells more about the others, as expected of him. 

“A lot has happened while I was away, huh?” Noctis remarks, while he’s internally cursing himself for not being able to be there for his friends during such a time.  Nevertheless, he admits that he couldn’t be even prouder on how everyone grew stronger in many respects, how they managed to keep the world from completely falling into the depths of ruin.

There is a moment of silence, only the commotion inside the then-Takka’s and the constant hum of the nearby small generators powering up the lights.  Nobody has called out to them yet.

Noctis wants to talk some more.  So far, Ignis is just telling him stories about survival, and there’s one thing he’s dying to know.  It may be petty, yes, but he’s dying to know about it.

“About Prompto,” Noctis finally asks.  “Is it true?  I mean, him and Cindy…”

Ignis does not answer in a moment of silence, and Noctis knows that the Advisor is carefully constructing his statement in his mind. 

“Prompto and Cindy had been going out for five years now, as far as I know.”

What comes to Noctis isn’t shock or despair.  Though he hopes Ignis to tell him otherwise, the Advisor telling him the dreaded confirmation does not actually make him feel _anything_.

After all, if his heart is shattered, how could he feel anything?

“You’re upset,” Ignis accuses Noctis, considering his silence.  Noctis could refute, because _upset_ is completely an understatement to describe how he is right now.

“I guess I should be happy for him, huh,” he says instead, head hanging low, elbows resting on his knees.  That’s what he says, but his voice completely shows how utterly resigned and hopeless he is, and he knows that it will not go unnoticed to Ignis.

“Ten years is a long time, Noct,” the Advisor points out.

“Yeah?” Noctis answers, aware that his tone is higher than what he’s intended, his voice almost breaking.  “Enough time for whatever he’s feeling for me to fade away?”

“I must say,” Ignis says, calm and collected as usual.  “It is not the feeling itself that fades away.  People are the ones who grow weary as time passes them by. 

“And ten years is a long time.”

Noctis agrees—partly.  Prompto—or everyone—may have gotten through ten years, but the same cannot be said for Noctis.  For him, only several hours had passed since he talked to Bahamut until he woke up in Angelgard.  For him, the events in the Zegnautus Keep only happened _yesterday._

He doesn’t have something like _ten years_ to use as an excuse to forget and grow tired of _anything._ That’s why he can’t understand how Prompto had managed to forget about him, to actually _move on_. 

No, he can’t understand.

 

\----------

 

“Lucky for ya, King Noctis, we’ve been savin’ our drinks for this very moment!”  Cindy says as she waltzes to the group sitting on chairs messily forming a circle around a small round table.  Being several years older than him, she was already a mature woman back then as far as he recalls, and ten years had surprisingly not made her any more mature-looking than that.   

Noctis expects her to take the vacant seat between Gladio and Talcott.  To his utter surprise Cindy _actually_ falls on Prompto’s lap, sideways, wrapping both her arms around the other blonde’s neck.  Noctis surely does not miss Prompto’s free hand subtly snaking around the bare skin of Cindy’s waist. 

Noctis looks away, as if on reflex, and takes a sip on his own drink—which is now actually _alcoholic_ , thanks to the instant ten years added to his age.

What he saw should not be a surprise, though—he’s already heard that those two are lovers, after all.  For five years, so to speak.  For five _freaking_ years.

Noctis puts down his drink, realizing that he’s not even drank halfway to whatever amount’s Gladio has poured for him.  It just tastes _bitter,_ with no hint of any sweetness.  Just _bitter._  

“Hey,” Gladio tells Noctis, giving his shoulder one heavy pat.  “We’ve just gotten used to this sight in their years of being together.  You’ll get used to it, too.”

The group chuckles, including Prompto and Cindy themselves.  Noctis tries to let out a snicker, too—key word: _tries._ Somehow, he is thankful that Gladio is able to break the awkwardness, but it doesn’t change how heavy his heart feels right now, that there is an intense desire to storm out of the room and be alone.   _Fuck,_ he doesn’t want to get used to this awful feeling.

 

\----------

 

Their drinking party didn’t last long, though.  Not because anyone is tipsy, but because all of them are aware that after getting enough rest the four should immediately head for Insomnia.  The people of Eos do not deserve to wait any longer for the light to be restored. 

Talcott and Cindy are tidying up the room when Noctis realizes that the room lacks Prompto’s presence and remembers that Prompto had excused himself minutes ago.  Noctis heads out and sees the blonde not too far away, standing by the makeshift guard platform by the fence.  Prompto’s back is facing Noctis’ direction, Prompto resting his elbows on the metal railing of the platform.     

Noctis takes a deep breath, and lets his legs take him to the person he wants to be with.

Prompto’s attention is caught by the sound of footsteps against the small metal staircase, although he does not bother to look at his company. 

Noctis mimics Prompto’s posture, and that’s when he sees what Prompto may be looking at.  There are a couple of Red Giants and Fire Bombs at the distance.  If this is ten years ago, they will certainly be wary of such sight, but right now it seems that it is nothing but a common view.  If not for these anti-daemon lights, they’ll certainly be fucked.

He notices the bottle of beer Prompto is holding in one hand.  From that, he lets his gaze wander on Prompto’s face, which is partially covered by his hair that is shorter now, though it is obvious that he still likes to maintain his signature chocobo-butt hairstyle.  He notices that his cheekbones are more prominent now, eyeballs look deeper in their sockets, freckles now less noticeable in the absence of sunlight.  He also sees traces of faint scars against his pale skin which tell him too little of what Prompto has gone through these past ten years.  With Prompto only wearing the sleeveless tank top of his Kingsglaive uniform, Noctis sees his biceps a lot more defined than what he could remember.

Before Prompto could even notice that Noctis’ eyes are boring into him, he withdraws his gaze and looks to the lurking daemons from afar. 

“So, how are you feeling?” Prompto asks.  Noctis does not answer immediately, thinking about what _feeling_ Prompto is referring to exactly.  However, it does not take long before Prompto continues, “Well, you’ve been inside the crystal for so long, you think your body’s still up for fighting?”

Noctis chuckles, and this time, it’s not forced, nor fake.  It’s just the same as when he was talking to Prompto back then, when they were still young—he sure missed that feeling.  “Actually I’m feeling more powerful than ever.”

“That’s good to hear,” Prompto says before lifting up his bottle to take a few gulps.  Noctis takes the moment to take note how Prompto’s voice actually sound lower, although the difference is very negligible.

“I’m sorry,” Noctis says, knowing too well that he’s about to begin a more serious conversation right now.  “It took me a long time to go back.”

“Nah,” Prompto immediately replies.  “Don’t worry about it.  What’s important is that you’re here now, for the people who had been waiting for your return.”

_How about you?  Why didn’t you wait for me?_ Noctis doesn’t dare ask.

It seems like Prompto has ran out of drinks so he sets down the bottle on the floor by his feet.  As soon as he does so, he pulls out a cigarette, puts it between pursed lips, and whips out a lighter to light it with.

Realizing that Noctis is watching him, Prompto makes it a point to ask “If you don’t mind,” to which Noctis replies, “Go ahead.”

Prompto exhales and suddenly, the smell of tobacco fill the air.

“Never knew you’ll be the smoking type,” Noctis comments.

“Just gotten used to this a few years ago,” Prompto replies, temporarily holding his cigarette down.

It is a dumb move, definitely, something that Noctis will do without thinking, but he snatches the cigarette from Prompto’s hand without warning.  As he holds it in between his index and middle finger, he purses his lips and bites on the filter.  Not knowing exactly what to do, he just takes a _sip_ on it, and suddenly, he feels _something_ invade his throat, down his lungs.  Suddenly, he is begging for air.

He instantly holds the cigarette away from his mouth as he coughs, trying to breathe out whatever he’s taken in.  He is busy doing so that he does not realize that Prompto is laughing at him.

“So, after your first alcohol, how does your first cigarette taste like?”  Prompto asks, his tone is obviously amused. 

“Can’t believe you actually like the taste of this shit,” Noctis says when the wheezing somehow subsides.  He hands over the cigarette to Prompto.

“Believe me, this shit’s a good stress reliever,” Prompto says before taking the cigarette on his mouth once again.  “It’s not like we have too many pastimes to choose from anyway.”

The next few moments is filled with silence—silence that is different from the comfortable one that he used to share with Prompto.  It’s not that too awkward, though.  Noctis just feels like there are a lot of unsaid words hanging in the air.  He had gotten used to the Prompto who regularly speaks his mind, presenting himself like an open book that Noctis doesn’t have to wonder what he’s thinking most of the time.  It’s a lot different now, apparently, and Noctis has a lot to do to decode what he’s thinking. 

“Cindy,” Noctis mentions, and he knows damn too well that he’s walking on thin ice here.  He knows, but he’s still talking anyway, because if he does not ask he’s sure that Prompto will not say anything about it.  “Talcott said that you’re persuading her to get married,” he asks, and he is expecting for a _particular_ answer.

“Nah,” Prompto answers, and it is almost close to what Noctis wants to hear until he continues. “Cindy and I… We kinda like agreed that this world’s got no place for such a fancy thing.  Even Gladio had to postpone his wedding for ten years.”

Noctis takes a deep breath, hoping that Prompto will not notice.  Seems like now’s the time for him to give up seeking the validation he wants.

“I am being very careful to not get her pregnant, though—I mean, both of us are being very careful.  ‘Cause you know, now’s such a cruel time for kids to be born in,” Prompto chuckles, his tone deep and low.  And it’s yet another thing that is unfamiliar to Noctis.

Noctis does not know what to answer to that.  ‘Cause while he’s thinking of ways on how to mend his bonds with his best friend who grew distant, Prompto is thinking about matters like raising his own family.  ‘Cause while he’s still thinking of Prompto, the other is already looking at a world where Noctis does not belong in.

“You speak like a grown up now,” Noctis says, trying to close the conversation he himself began. 

“Guess I should, huh.  It’s been ten years, after all.”

Another moment of silence comes between them, a moment long enough for Prompto to finish his cigarette and crush its remains under the soles of his boots against the metal platform.  Noctis does not even bother to think of anything to tell him, although there’s actually a lot that he should be saying. 

But ten years had already passed them by.  Catching up to that seems pretty impossible now. 

That’s what Noctis believes, or at least _tries_ to, but that does not preclude him from inching closer to Prompto until their elbows touch.  Prompto does not flinch, nor move his arm away.  Maybe it would be better if he does, because then Noctis will not be able to do what he’ll do next.

Noctis leans in, and Prompto only watches as he does.  Slowly, Noctis closes the distance between their faces, his gaze fixated on that pair of lips.  He is hesitating on what he’s about to do, his heart is thumping so loud that he feels the blood rush all over his body.  But Prompto does not move away nor do anything to _wake_ Noctis up, so Noctis continues until he finally presses their lips together.

In many ways, it’s not as sweet as their first kiss—the one he remembers clearly, the one that he remembers to have happened only more than a year ago.  But probably, _this_ will be the last sweet memory he’ll ever share with Prompto.  It’s _bitter_ , but he’ll take it.

After a fleeting moment, Noctis breaks the kiss, putting an inch between their faces, but Prompto doesn’t move anywhere. 

“What was that for?” Prompto breathes, in a low, heavy voice.  His expression is purely blank—he wears neither a smile nor a frown.  It is the kind of expression that is rather odd to the most expressive person Noctis has ever known.

“Something I won’t forget,” Noctis says, though he knows he should supply the needed context.  He does not bother, though, ‘cause whether Prompto remembers that particular _night_ or not, he thinks it doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter, ‘cause Noctis will definitely remember that and _this_ night—a memory that he will never forget, may it be tomorrow, the day after, or when he brings back the sun in the sky again. 

Or maybe Prompto haven’t actually forgotten, ‘cause in the next couple of moments he does not say anything, nor bother to light another cigarette.  Both of them stare in the distance where the daemons are; a net of silence is cast between them—silence which is not exactly comfortable, nor awkward, just one filled with unspoken words.  It’s not what Noctis wants, yet he doesn’t dislike it either.  Part of him wants Prompto to speak up and tell him off, to get angry at him, to say to his face that he is _fucking_ more than ten years late to do this.  The other tells him that this isn’t bad at all, that somehow, he could keep whatever’s left between the two of them.

They stay like that, Noctis does not know for how long, until Gladio comes over and tells them that he’s finished setting up the camp.   

 

\----------

 

He opens his eyes, to shut them briefly again, as he lets them adjust to the sudden brightness—the proof that he’s succeeded in bringing back the sun.  From the sound of the engine the occasional bumps and the warm metal beneath his back, he guesses that he’s lying at the back of Talcott’s truck.  There is Prompto sitting beside him, the first he sees against the blue open sky, his blonde locks all the more shining.  He guesses that the figure sitting by his feet is Gladio. 

Prompto’s face takes most of Noctis’ view, smiling the brightest smile he’s ever seen —the one he missed so much—to which the sun high above them may not even compare.

“Hey Noct,” Prompto says.  “It’s okay.  We got you now, buddy.”

Noctis realizes that he still feels sluggish, too tired to move, but his hand miraculously manages to find one of Prompto’s, holding and squeezing it as he does.  He feels Prompto flinch, slightly, nonetheless he does not withdraw his hand.  Noctis closes his eyes, but still conscious, and throughout such time he makes it a point not to let go of the warmth underneath his palm.

 

\----------

 

He feels sluggish, and there’s a throbbing pain on his temples, but Noctis still sits up from where he’s lying anyway.  Ignis, Gladio and Cid are in the room, as if they know this very moment when he’ll wake up.

They smile at him.  They are proud of him. 

Ignis tells him that people all over Lucis cannot wait to travel all the way to Hammerhead to see their King who had actually brought back the sun, and that Noctis should prepare for a speech, just like a proper King should.  Noctis doesn’t like it—he’ll never get used to dealing with people—but this time, he doesn’t bother to protest. 

He asks for the missing blonde in the party and Gladio tells him that Prompto is outside, somewhere.  The Advisor and the Shield doesn’t need to wonder what Noctis will do when he hastily gets up the bed and goes out of the room. 

When he steps out of the door, he is immediately met by the brightness of what seems like a noon sun.  He squints a bit, and when his vision gets clearer he sees so many people outside the Garage, more people than he had ever seen in such a place.  When one by one they notice the King walk by they look at him and bow subtly, some greeting him _Your Majesty,_ to which he responds with a smile and a nod.

He looks around, hoping for the familiar sight of a blondie, a pair of blue eyes, and a chocobo butt hairstyle.  Eventually, through a curtain of people he sees _him,_ standing a few feet away, basking in sunshine, his pale skin glowing so bright enough for Noctis to think that he’ll go blind if he stares any longer.  Prompto looks in the other direction, though, and just as when Noctis is about to call out to him, he discovers to whom Prompto is exactly looking.

Noctis swears he sees Prompto smile before his face is obscured from view when Cindy comes running and takes off to give him a big _glomp._ Prompto does not topple over, though for a moment he seemed like he would, nonetheless he’s got Cindy in a good hold when Cindy’s toes are even barely touching the ground. 

It doesn’t take long before the embrace is accompanied by a kiss—a long, passionate one.  Prompto lets Cindy get her feet back on the concrete as he snakes both his hands around that unclothed slim waist pressed on his belly. 

Noctis’ chest dropped very low, his breath completely taken away by the sight.  What he’s seeing is not awful, though.  On the contrary, it’s beautiful—something that is taken straight from the romantic movies he had watched by chance when he was young.  It is quite the perfect ending scene for a man being together with the woman he’s pining for over the years.

Even if he’s the King of Lucis, the Bringer of Light, who is he to take _this_ away from Prompto?

Prompto deserves to be happy, after all, even if it means that Noctis isn’t the one who will give him that happiness.

Noctis turns his back, although he does not know where exactly to go, where to run to, what to do to ease the clenching of his heart.  It simply hurts, and that’s all he knows in this very moment.

Because he’s just brought back the sun, but now _his_ sun is shining for somebody else.

 

\----------

 

There’s no way that the elevator is running, so Noctis takes the staircase.  It will take a good hike up to his floor, but he still does it anyway, and after several minutes he reaches the door of his flat.  _Former_ flat, that is.

Even if he has the keycard, and even if he remembers the code combination, they still won’t be useful.  So he takes down the door, violently, potentially compromising the remaining structural integrity of the building as a whole.  He doesn’t care too much, though.  He’ll just warp out of the building in the event of a collapse.

The door falls with a loud _thud_ , and after the dust clears he sees his apartment once again.  Fine debris of glass and concrete are scattered everywhere, and the dust swirls around the room from the wind blowing through the large gaping hole of the shattered window.  It’s still the same room, nonetheless.  His things aren’t there anymore, though, as he remembers them being brought back to his room in the Citadel when he left Insomnia.  All that remains are the basic furniture and appliances, at their respective places as far as he can remember, enveloped by an eerie silence of emptiness.

It’s still the same room, the one where he lived in for a couple of years, the one where he had good memories with his friends.  He remembers that during those times, he never once thought that everything will come to _this_.

It’s true, they’ve lost so much—so many sacrifices were made along the way, including friends and family, people that are important to them.  But here he is, together with those who remain, looking forward to rebuilding the world they used to know.

He treads to the living area and drags the empty coffee table to the wall, followed by the lounge chair.  Once the center is cleared, save for dust and debris, he moves the couch to face the broken window.  He ties the curtains back to keep them from flying away vigorously when the wind blows.

He sits on the couch, taking the spot on the right, sitting back with an ankle resting above his knee.  He takes in the sight of the ruins of the city he once called his Kingdom, very different from the beautiful city lights he used to see during the night.  He used to take such view for granted, and now’s the time for him to appreciate what he’d lost.

Reconstruction efforts are already taking place, though, which began a couple of weeks ago, and he remembers that the planning therefor viciously drained the energy out of him.  There are just so many things to do.

He spends the next couple of minutes staring aimlessly.  He knows absolutely well that Ignis and Gladio will be pissed that he’s taking too much time for a break amid the pile of work they’ve got to do, but he stays anyway.  It’s boring, for sure, but somehow all the chaos he’s gone through made him appreciate such moments of silence and peace.  Or maybe in these moments he’s able to remember memories he’s held dear.

He knows, however, that there’s no sense in doing this, that there’s nothing good that will come out of remembering.  Especially if doing so only reminds him of the things he can no longer have.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there when he hears someone enter through the door.  He hears fine debris crunching under the approaching steps. 

“Heyaz,” he hears Prompto’s voice, to which Noctis replied “Hey” without looking at him.

He expects Prompto to take the empty seat next to him, which the blonde actually does.  He finds it quite amusing that, now, it seems like the scene from _that_ time is almost complete, except for the nighttime and the noise and display of fireworks.  Well, maybe they’re different people now, ‘cause they are no longer the kids they were back then. 

But still, Noctis feels the flames inside him, the familiar burn on his chest that once grew cold and dormant, now reignited.  Right now, he has to fight the urge to reach out his hand and intertwine it with Prompto’s, or to simply scoot closer to him, closing the horrible gap between them.  He doesn’t know where will this feeling bring him—if it will get him anywhere—knowing that he’s already ten years late.  But he knows it’s far from getting extinguished anytime soon. 

“What brings you here?” Noctis asks, in intent to break the silence, though he eventually realizes that Prompto can ask him the same dumb question.

“Ignis told me that this is where the broken-hearted goes,” Prompto answers immediately.

Noctis is startled, enough for him to turn his gaze to Prompto in a snap.  Prompto, on the other hand, lets his gaze wander off to the sky and the ruins outside the window.  Has Prompto finally begun to acknowledge the fact that Noctis is still far from getting over him?  But before Noctis could ask, Prompto continues, and this time he looks him in the eye.

“I was dumped.  Cindy dumped me.”

Another wave of confusion crashes upon Noctis.  But then again, before he could ask why, Prompto continues.

“She said she doesn’t want to be the _third wheel_.”

It seems like Prompto cut his statement half way.  Third wheel?  To whom? 

This time, Noctis does not bother to ask, does not bother to give it the benefit of the doubt.  It may be too presumptuous of him, but this time, he is taking the shot—he puts Prompto’s face between his palms, forcing him to face him, as Noctis unceremoniously presses their lips together.

Noctis remembers that it may be the same thing he’s done more than ten years ago, in this very same couch.  It may be the same, but ironically, it’s different.  ‘Cause this time, he’s definitely not turning back, he’s certainly not quitting.  This time, he will not allow himself be scared of this feeling which is stronger than ever.

He closes his eyes, letting himself drown in the sensation.  He breaks the kiss, nonetheless keeps Prompto’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together.  He stares at the midnight blue orbs an inch away from his, taking note how beautiful they always had been.  He wants to take in the view longer, but he doesn’t, ‘cause his lips are definitely wanting more.  So he dives right in once again, locking his hungry lips with Prompto’s, deepening the kiss despite his absolute inexperience.  He lets his desire take over him, and it’s a good thing that Prompto eventually takes the lead, angles their heads better and twines their wandering tongues.  And, _goddamn_ it feels good.

In each second that passes, their kisses become deeper and wetter, and in one moment Noctis hearst a muffled sound from the back of Prompto’s throat which fuels the heat in Noctis even more.  He feels the heat crawling up to his face, and _damn,_ he must be looking like a real mess right now.

It is such a shame that they have to break the kiss to recover their lost breaths, but Noctis doesn’t pull away from Prompto, taking the opportunity to place lingering kisses on his freckled cheek, thumbs tracing the now more prominent cheek bones.

“What was that for?” the familiar question that Prompto asks with his ragged breaths.  It’s the second time he’s asked that, but right now, Noctis definitely has a better answer.

“I’m taking back the chance that I’d lost a long time ago,” Noctis says, pressing their foreheads together again, smiling, despite noticing his watery vision and the wetness trickling down his cheeks.

“It took you long enough, you idiot,” Prompto says, his breathing heavy, gritting his teeth and balling his fists on Noctis’ shirt.  His reddened eyes are flooded, and eventually his tears also make their way down.  If all of that shows Prompto’s anger, Noctis will take every ounce of it, so he wraps both arms around Promtpo and doesn’t give Prompto the slightest chance to break away from his tight embrace.  “ _Fucking_ took you long enough.”

“Yeah,” Noctis says on Prompto’s ear.  He agrees, because that is so damn true.   “Better late than never,” he adds.

Noctis could easily tell from Prompto’s swollen eyes that he had cried way too much before this moment, or in other words he’s very much affected by his break-up with Cindy, and that itself suggests that it may still be too _soon_ for this.  But _fuck,_ Noctis doesn’t give a damn one bit, not when ten years had already come in between the two of them.

The next few moments is filled with muffled cries, and the sound of strong breeze blowing through the window.  Noctis holds Prompto as close as possible, and remembers Prompto being more slender, more delicate, but now he is more buff with perfectly toned muscles.  Nonetheless this man is still the very same person—the same person who could make Noctis’ heart beat crazy like this, and there’s no way that Prompto does not hear it.

“I had to let go of a wonderful woman just for you,” Prompto says, his words quite muffled on Noctis’ shoulder, when both of them calmed down and tears finally ceased to flow.  “You better take responsibility, dude.”

“Damn right I will,” Noctis says as he partly breaks the hug to look at Prompto’s face once more and presses a long kiss on one of Prompto’s tear-stained eyes.

It took them more than ten years to get here, that’s true.  But this moment tells Noctis that the long wait does not matter now. 

And this time, he will not let go of this person in his arms for the next ten years and more.

 

\----------

 

Surprisingly, Prompto’s old neighborhood did not suffer from that much devastation, unlike the urbanized center of the city.  Noctis and Prompto are in the middle of surveying the habitable parts of the city, and apparently many had decided to move in this district.  While they’re at it Noctis decides to take the blonde to his old house which they find still in one piece, save for the overgrown grass and vines that actually prevented them from getting inside.  It’s still a good trip down the memory lane, though.  Maybe Noctis will bring Prompto along to see their former middle school and high school—or what remains of them, if such is the case.

On their way back to their vehicle, they come across a playground where there are a couple of children throwing paper planes in the air.  Noctis remembers that he does not have a particular memory of doing the same, or so he thought. 

“Hey Prompto,” Noctis calls out, making Prompto stop on his tracks and turn to Noctis.

“Hm?”

“Back in Altissia,” Noctis continues, taking a few steps closer to the blonde.  “Remember when we threw those paper birds to the statue?”

Noctis sees Prompto’s brows furrow in confusion before changing into an expression of sudden realization.

“Yeah.  What about that?”

“What was your wish?  The one you wrote on the paper bird.”

Prompto does not answer immediately.  It seems like he’s not trying to remember, though, but rather he looks at Noctis as if he’s trying to figure out why Noctis is asking such thing.

“I mean, well,” Noctis continues, shrugging his shoulders in intent to dismiss the conversation.  “They say it may not come true when you tell others about it so, never mind.”

Catching Noctis by surprise, Prompto steps closer and brings their faces side by side.

“Don’t worry,” he says on Noctis’ ear, his voice is low, his breath sends shivers down to Noctis’ spine, and it takes too much for Noctis to keep his heartbeat under control.  “I think it has already come true, anyway.”

“Really?” Noctis exhales, his expression shifts to nothing but delighted. 

“But I’m still not telling you,” Prompto says before pecking Noctis’ cheek and swiftly walks away, leaving Noctis a smirk which eventually turns into soft chuckles.

“Hey, you cheater!”

 

\----------

 

_Please make Noct happy_.

“Hey Prompto, you ready?”

“You bet I am!”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I said I would write something fluffy and light for my next fic but look at this  
> 2\. I wanted to make this fic light so plot is actually non-existent in this one idk why I’m even explaining myself  
> 3\. Will never fail including Prompto’s birthday in each of my fics, I guess. I want to spoil him with all my heart whenever I can  
> 4\. AU where the drinking age in Insomnia is 21
> 
> Thank you for reading! ~


End file.
